Sparks Fly
by Actual Banshee
Summary: Everything has to remain the same as Ester and Hotch do their jobs. Keeping their relationship a secret while fighting the bad guys might be more difficult than they realize. They work with the best minds. One slip up and the cat is out of the bag.


**Criminal Minds**

 **One Shot**

 **Rating: M**

 **Word Count:**

 **Author's note and disclaimer: I have the** **strangest** **urge to write a slash fic between Hotch and Ester. Don't ask me why, but this needs to happen so I get it out of my system. Is that weird? I'm weird. I'm sorry for weirdness. I do not own Criminal Minds.**

 **Side note: The reason why I'm putting this in another folder (so to speak) is because I didn't want anyone to think that Ester is cheating on Spencer or anything. This will strictly be HotchxEster.**

 **Forbidden Fruit**

Ester's game controller slipped out of her hands when she jumped. She was so immersed in her game that the polite knocking made her jump. Or maybe it was the caffeine. The team was promised a three day weekend and she turned down to hang out with Penelope and Spencer to have a Dragon Age: Inquisition marathon. She had everything planned. Her freezer, fridge and pantry was stocked with the necessary junk foods and refreshments. Ester wasn't planning on moving or sleeping for the next three days.

Not expecting anyone to bother her, Ester checked the peep hole and sighed with frustration. She swung the door open, ready to protest about the lies the team was fed.

"Please don't tell me we have a case because I swear to god…"

Ester's boss let himself in, quickly glancing around the room. Her couch was set up like his living room whenever Jack had friends over. Blankets laid out like a bed and empty cans of soda slowly formed a pyramid.

"Is anyone here?" Hotch asked stoically, turning towards her with his brown eyes watching her like a hawk. Those brown eyes, they always gave away Aaron's mood. They lightened to a caramel color whenever he laughed or smiled—which rarely happened. When he was serious or threatening an unsub they were so dark it made dark chocolate jealous.

Ester locked the door and twirled towards him. "No, why? Is everything alrig—"

Hotch cut her off by firmly grabbing her arm and pulled her towards him. Their lips found each other before Ester knew what was happening. Hotch went to wrap an arm around back, but Ester raised hers. At first Hotch thought she was going to push him away, but she locked both arms around his neck—deepening their kiss. It was intense. It started out small, but slowly grew until they forgot what air was.

Their hands never stayed in one spot, wanting to feel everything. But with Hotch's obsession with wearing suits, Ester could only guess what was hidden underneath all the layers. Hotch on the other hand, didn't have to guess. She was wearing grey sweat pants that were for men and a plum tank top. His hand easily slid underneath, feeling the smooth skin and ridges from her scars.

At one point, Hotch slightly lifted her off the floor, gaining better access to her lips. He nipped at her lips, getting an approving moan from his subordinate. Slowly, the heated embrace began to taper off. Ester was the one to pull away, desperately needing air. Hotch gave her a few milliseconds before he titled his head once more and planted several delicate kisses on her slightly dry lips.

Their foreheads rested against one another. Hotch held her hand to his chest as his arm curved around the small of Ester's back. Realization began to set in, fear pumping through their veins. They broke the number one rule of the F.B.I. Thanks to Rossi's glory days when he first joined the bureau there was to be no fraternization between agents.

"Where does Jack think you are?" Ester whispered.

"He's spending the night at a friend's house." Hotch replied.

"So you drove all the way from the other side of town to come here and kiss me?" Ester asked, not really complaining. The guys she's dated never kissed like that. They didn't have passion or ferocity. They were just looking to get laid and leave before the sun rose. The men her age were jokes.

Hotch's face lightened when he smiled, "I actually circled your building a few times before deciding to come up."

"Oh, so whenever my elderly land lady is outside with her metal bat waiting for you to drive around should I send you a picture of her swinging at the cars the pull up?" Ester half joked.

"She uses a metal bat?" Hotch questioned seriously.

"Miss Greco gets very protective of the girls in the building." Ester smiled.

"And you're one of them?" He teased.

"No, I have a gun." Ester chuckled, tilting her head to kiss him a few more times. Hotch took a moment to get lost in the kiss, taking them back to when he first arrived. Hotch picked her up and pinned her against the wall. Ester moaned, shocked that someone at Hotch's ripe ol' age of 53 could pull a move like that off.

Ester held onto the back his neck tightly when Hotch broke away and left a trail of hot marks along her jaw line and down her neck. Nuzzling the nook of her neck.

"Shouldn't we talk about this first?" Ester gasped as he worked the sensitive area of her flesh.

"We can. Later. Bedroom?" Hotch asked in between kisses.

"Currently? It's the living room." Ester pointed him the right direction and with ease, Hotch carried her to the couch. Sitting down with Ester sitting across him, they continued locking lips. The whole time Hotch's mind was telling him to knock it off. That breaking the number one rule could result in getting you both fired.

But how could Hotch resist? He hasn't been with anyone since Beth and even though he had Jack—he was lonely. So what if she was far too young for him? Ester was still an amazing woman. Incredibly driven, beautiful, dedicated, loyal, intelligent and mature for a 28 year old. She's been through so much tragedy, far more than a person would go through in their life time. That was something that they could relate to.

Ester was still over coming her demons. Getting over an abusive and family murdering father was no easy task, but at least Hotch understood her. He understood her anger and fears. He knew about the monsters that prevented her from sleeping most nights. But when did he start having feelings for her? He couldn't decide on the one factoring moment when he started to look at her in a different light. When everything she did resonated with him. Maybe it was when Devin Marker, an unsub that held a gun to his head and she saved him.

Ester shifted, straddling Hotch's hips. A hand laid flat against her back, while the other cradled the back of her head—getting tangled in her short brown hair. Her slender hands held his head to the side as she nibbled at his ear, his nails digging into her back and the grip on her hair tightened. Hearing him moan deep in his throat only encouraged her teasing.

Then his phone started ringing. He dug it out of his pocket and was about to toss is aside when he saw his son's face. Ester stopped her actions and patiently sat in his lap while he spoke to his son. She noticed the panic in his almond eyes and quietly slipped away from him. He didn't even notice until he hung up the phone and turned to talk to her. She stood by the door, smiling from ear to ear.

"I'm sorry, Jack is sick. I gotta go." Hotch stood pleading with his eyes, hoping she understood how sorry he was. He wanted to talk to her about everything that just happened.

Ester shook her head and opened the door for him, "Don't be. He's your son, he comes first. We can talk about this later."

Before crossing the threshold, Hotch turned towards her and kissed her quickly. "Thank you."

"Not a problem." Ester leaned against the wall in the hall, watching him disappear behind the elevators door with a giant shit eating smile spreading from ear to ear.

As soon as her door was locked, she rushed to her phone. Wanting to talk to the only person who would geek out with her. She was about to press Penelope's face, but then she realized what she was about to do. Ester tossed the phone to the other side of the room and pouted in the corner of her couch.

"I really need more friends."

 **Author's note: Honestly, I don't think I'm done with this. Please review.**


End file.
